


Until it Stings

by swbooker



Series: Could Have [1]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Alphonse Knew It, Clueless Edward, Edward in Denial, Help From a Serial Killer, M/M, Roy Likes Doughnuts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-02
Updated: 2015-09-02
Packaged: 2018-04-17 16:35:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4673771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swbooker/pseuds/swbooker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Roy was a bastard who ate like he was having sex. And Edward certainly didn't know that because he was in love with the man, definitely not, nuh-uh. He wouldn't touch Bastard with a barge pole.</p><p>You know. Theoretically.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Until it Stings

**Author's Note:**

> There is some violence near the end of this story due to a confrontation with a serial killer; I haven't put up a warning about it because I don't think it's graphic enough to need one. (And yet here I am writing this. Go figure.) Anyway, it ends with Ed blushing and Roy smirking so how bad can it be, really? As this is based on Brotherhood, Edward does not have his alchemy, nor does he have his automail arm.

Until it Stings  
'How it Could Have Happened'

Sometimes, if he tried hard enough, Edward could pretend that he wasn't desperately in love with Roy Mustang.

It was a lot of hard work to do so because pretending that he _didn't_ love the bastard would involve admitting that he _did_ , and there were few times that Edward was willing to do that. Mostly it happened by accident and on very few occasions - it was when Roy and Ed were alone that Edward found it hardest to contain his desire.

To date, the most dire instances took place when Edward would be reporting to the General in the privacy of the office, detailing all that had happened on his most recent trip. The intimacy of the moment was what made it so difficult for Edward to deny his admiration as having the General's undivided attention both infuriated and aroused him. See, the General was The General in the office: he took on a certain manner, a certain persona, that made Edward's spine shiver.

Edward thought it was the way he sat that did it.

There was something so confident, so self-assured about how Mustang would sit behind his large desk in his large chair with his large ego, and smirk as though he knew he could take down the person he was addressing with a click of his fingers - which, Edward frequently reminded himself, was true. When it was Edward whom Roy was addressing however, it was horrible to remember that the General was a powerful man: Edward, squirming in his seat, would be muttering angrily about pretentious, supercilious pricks, until he would remember that the General had every goddamn reason to be a pretentious, supercilious prick, and he would suddenly be shot-full of adrenaline.

The General's power turned him on, Edward couldn't deny, and made him feel secure. That was perhaps the selling point: Edward hadn't felt secure or safe in many years but Roy managed to relax him with a simple smile or gaze. He would lean back in his seat with his hands clasped on the table in front of him, all of his attention focused on Edward: hard, intent and direct. And because of how Edward's mind was reeling with adrenaline, his heart thundering in his ears, he would lick his lips and swallow and suck in a long, drawn, shuddery breath and mumble some excuse about being too hot or too cold. In turn, The General would nod as though he already knew this, and say, in his low purring voice, "I suppose that now you've recovered Al's body, you have plenty of time to notice these things more frequently..."

Edward thought it was fuckin' stupid thing to say because he always noticed the weather when he was on his adventure with Al and frequently commented on it but because he was so angry at himself for feeling the General's presence so intensely that he would simply agree. It was hard to disagree with those eyes, after all. Having that dark, cold gaze fixed solidly on himself would force Edward to all but lose control of his composure, something that very rarely happened nowadays. He would fidget and glare and tell himself that Roy didn't look better than a steaming hot mouthful of Gracia's apple pie, even if the way his hair fell into his eyes was alluring, even if the slight lilt to his mouth was almost too much for his poor eyes to take in-

But no, he didn't love the General, he'd tell himself. He was sexy, and Edward was perfectly healthy in acknowledging that, of course he was. Except, well, even if Roy was completely sexless Ed would still probably find the concentration in Roy's eyes very appealing, and even if Roy was wearing a hulking, stinking dustbin, Edward would probably still get those little turns in his stomach...

Around then, when everything grew too much for Edward's physiological functioning, was when Edward's ribcage would shudder and cave in and his heart would shoot freely around his body or get slurped up into his veins, and Edward would be forced to admit that he loved the stupid, smug bastard with every proton, neutron and electron in his body. Somehow, at some point, Roy had transmuted Edward's brain into a Roy-shaped radar, and held captive all of Edward's attention.

Edward hated the bastard for making him think like that. 'That' meaning Roy made him think 'like a lovestruck fool' for one, but also for making him betray his love for Roy in that it was so immense he just couldn't deal with it and had to hide it away, to tell himself it didn't exist.

Edward was trying that now: he was trying, attempting, forcing himself with such fervour not to acknowledge the General's presence, not to look at the man as he strode purposefully into the room, his aura larger than even the universe and his eyes much vaster. Yet it was all for nothing, for _nothing_ , because then Roy looked straight at him and Edward's fists clenched. Every thought he had shattered against his tongue.

Balefully, he glared at the General. "What you doin' here?" he muttered, pulling his bowl of noodles closer towards his chest. "Thought it was my day off..."

"From the office, yes," agreed the General. He began to pull his gloves off with such purpose, such precision, that Ed's eyes were drawn to both of his strong hands and his mouth watered. "Whoever said that a day away from the office was a day free of any work at all?"

Edward looked away, his hand clenched so tightly around his bowl he thought it might break - were he still in automail, that may have just happened. "How'd you get in, anyway? Door's locked..."

Roy clicked his tongue. "With your previous proclivity for transmuting locks open, one would think you had learned to recognise when someone else had taken to abusing that little trick." A smirk, sharp and clean, and there was a definite crack in Ed's bowl now. "Fortunately, Fullmetal, I'm not here to stay. I was just passing by and thought I'd drop in with this next assignment - consider it a personal favour to me, if you would."

Mustang threw the file on the table: it landed with a _splat_ , and Roy sat in the seat opposite Ed without a sound. His gloves he put without care on the table in front of him as though he was demonstrating to Edward that he was not a threat. What, did he think that Edward was without control? That he'd automatically tense up and glare and spit and hiss and be itching to attack-

_Hold on a minute..._

Clearing his throat (he almost choked on the noodles he had not consumed and quickly swallowed them), Edward sat up straighter in his seat, painstakingly smoothed out his scowl, and managed to scoop most of the hostility out of his voice when he said, "Personal favour? You're involved in whatever shit's in that file?"

Roy smiled tightly. "In a manner of speaking." Seeing that Edward was not about to reach for it, Roy opened the file and spun it around so that Edward could see everything inside: gruesome pictures and detailed accounts of deaths, dates, statistics, connections...

Throat suddenly parched, Edward looked down at his noodles and decided that another bite would do him better than looking at that file again. "Warn a guy next time, I'm tryna fuckin' eat..." he said around a mouthful. He did not want to explain that the sight of any dead body reminded Edward of the thing they transmuted, the thing they thought was their mother but was not. "What is it, anyway? A murderer I s'pose."

"You would be right to think so," Roy looked vaguely amused, though quickly his expression grew solemn, "however, I knew - know - every man and woman who has been targeted. All of them were - interests of mine, you could say."

Every hair on Edward's body rose and his mouth curled into a sneer. "So some fucker's jealous of your old shags," he snapped. "Why should I have to clean up your goddamn mess?"

"This isn't simple jealousy," Roy said patiently. "They are deliberately and methodically targeting every love interest I have ever had in order of which I took them." Asshole made it sound like he'd never begged for a chance once in his life. Edward would make him beg if- _if_ he ever even _looked_ at Roy like that, which he didn't, because Roy was a smug bastard. "Regardless, Edward, I am not telling you this to get you involved. I am telling you this to make certain that you do not."

Edward actually dropped his fork he was so flabbergasted. "What?" he asked stupidly.

Roy explained. "I do not want you involved in this case. No doubt you will hear about it - wandering the corridors, in the newspapers, from your friends - and you would have been offended had I not told you." Smug fuckin' bastard. "I am telling you this now to avoid that scenario, and to avoid you rushing off like a hot-headed fool to save the day. I don't want anything to happen to you, Edward. I've got people investigating it, everything is covered. Do not go looking for trouble. Do you hear me?"

The nod was automatic, as so captivated was Edward by Roy's startlingly sober eyes that he could do nought but agree.

"Good." Roy gave him a long, searching look, then nodded as though he was satisfied. He stood, carefully pulled his gloves back on, then tucked the file under one arm. "I'll see you at work tomorrow, 8 o'clock sharp. If you're late, I expect it to be because you have deigned to buy me a creamy breakfast snack. If you are missing said snack and you are late, you will like me a little less."

"Whoever said I liked you, Bastard?"

But Roy was already walking out of the room and Edward heard the definitive click as the door closed. Left alone with his thoughts and his noodles, Edward returned to eating, and did not let himself feel weighted by Roy's absence.

********

"Do not go looking for trouble," were the words that Edward kept hearing. He snorted, genuinely perplexed. Since when had he ever gone looking for trouble? More like trouble came crawling up to him on hands and knees and begged to be found.

Nevertheless, Edward found himself intrigued: why would Roy warn him away? Was he worried that Edward would compromise the mission, or was he worried that Edward would hurt himself? If it was the former, Edward wanted to 'help out' with the mission just out of spite. If it was the latter, then Roy was a bastard for not trusting Edward to protect himself and could kiss Edward's arse.

It was the next morning that Edward pondered over this, his natural frown pressed grumpily into place as he sauntered to work that morning, assured in the knowledge that he was in fact late. Due to him (not really) wanting to see Roy's darker side (he had plenty of reason to dislike the bastard already), he popped into a pastry shop on the way and emerged with a white box containing a jam and cream doughnut and two egg custard tarts (both of which were for Edward). He hoped it would sweeten the sour bastard up, and held these hopes up high with a self-satisfied smirk as he walked into the office that morning.

Riza Hawkeye looked up from her desk as he entered and smiled. "Edward," she said, "only an hour late today."

"Bastard lectured me yesterday," he lifted up the white box for Riza to see, "Tryna bribe him into submission."

Hawkeye actually snorted. "There is only one treat that can break the General's veneer and I very much doubt you have it."

Except that Edward was sure he did. "I know my fuckin' pastry, and I know Bastard and his pretentious tastes, and I'm pretty sure I got the right one."

"'Pretentious tastes'," repeated Havoc with a laugh. He was leaning on the hind legs of his chair, back against the wall. "You got it in one, Boss."

Fuery, who was tinkering with a phone in the corner, nodded emphatically.

"Where're Breda and Falman?" Ed asked.

"General sent them on errands," said Hawkeye immediately.

"But Bastard's in?"

Smiling, Hawkeye nodded and indicated towards the door. "I hope you know what you're doing, Edward."

And Edward, as he opened the door, laughed. "You should know me by now, Riza," he said. "I don't have a fuckin' clue."

It was cold inside the office. Edward struggled to pull his jacket more tightly around his shoulders and looked dirtily at the open windows through which the wind was blustering, his eyes soon deviating to lock on to General Roy Mustang, whom was sitting at his desk in a half-dead sort of way that Edward had never seen him do before. It actually caught him so off-guard, seeing the General tapping his pen in boorish glee with his head artfully held up in his other hand, that he spluttered and almost dropped the cakes.

The wind slammed the door shut behind him and Roy jolted to attention. "Edward," he said, equanimous even as he rushed to collect himself, "I wasn't expecting you for another hour yet at least. I'm reluctantly impressed. However, as you can no doubt see, I am extremely busy, so may you shout now and get it over with?"

He did not smile after he spoke but the corners of his lips slowly curled, as though he was trying badly not to. For some reason this infuriated Edward, who threw himself down into a chair (flinging the box onto the desk) and glowered at the man.

"Arrogant bastard... you were tapping out 'SOS' in Morse, we both know it."

"I wasn't aware that you knew Morse," the General mused. He reached for the box and did not even ask Ed's permission before pulling it towards himself and beginning to untie the ribbon. "I see you that you did indeed bring me something this morning. How very sweet of you, Edward."

Edward's ears flamed red immediately and his cheeks felt a bit hot, too. No wonder Mustang had the windows open. "Al and I used to talk through Morse at night so we didn't wake anyone up," he said, and then: "And it's not all for you, Bastard. I did this 'cause I was hungry, not 'cause you told me to. I bought something for myself and thought maybe you'd want one... I dunno..."

Roy, as he meticulously continued to open the box (how was there even that much ribbon anyway, and since when was Roy so good with his hands?) indulged in an excellent example of the social pacifier 'smile and nod'. Ed's ears steamed and his teeth rattled like the lid of an overfull kettle that had reached boiling point.

"I don't think I will ever become accustomed to the way in which your mind works," the General said. "You Elric brothers are certainly oddballs."

Edward smiled, a shark at feeding time. "You're just jealous of our genius," he said. He grew tired of how long it took the General to unwrap the box and snatched it away, making quick work of it. "You have to do everything so fuckin' slowly?"

Roy's earthen eyes crinkled as he laughed. "How was I to know that you hadn't put some form of deadly mechanism inside? Sometimes doing things slowly is much more rewarding in the long run." There was a certain tilt to his smile that made Ed's throat dry. "Now, are you quite done? I want to see what you've bought me."

"Ungrateful bastard..." Ed muttered. Nevertheless he handed over the box and squashed down the nerves he felt (why was there any need to be nervous about a goddamn doughnut?) as he watched Roy lift the lid.

For a moment, the other man went so still and so silent that Edward thought that perhaps someone _had_ slipped something dangerous inside, something that was going to blow at any second, something that would kill the General, and a surge of panic like a great tsunami rose up in him. Despite knowing how unreasonable he was being, he had to physically _stop_ himself from leaping out of his seat and shaking the General's shoulders.

"What is it?" he asked. His voice sounded hoarse so he asked again and got it out properly that time.

Quickly, the General glanced up at him and laughed softly, patronising Edward even though Edward looked like he'd just had the scare of his life. Then Roy seemed to remember how many people Edward had seen die, and suddenly did not find it as funny. "Oh, nothing bad, not at all," he said. "I only wonder how you know my favourite doughnut when even Major Hawkeye seems to think I prefer a good pavlova or crème brulée to any other desert."

Edward grinned and let himself relax. "You like everything that is fancy and stupid - but even you cannot resist the call of a jam and cream doughnut."

"It is my one weakness," Roy gave a great sigh, "that I would happily die for."

Edward snorted. "You are such a fuckin' weirdo."

"And yet you are sat in my office about to enjoy a wholesome breakfast with me. Or have you somewhere else to eat?"

The truth was, Edward _had_ planned on eating in the office with the General, although he hadn't planned on letting him know that. So, brashly, Edward tugged the box towards him and pulled out both custard tarts, glaring at Roy as if challenging him to disagree. "I work for you, Bastard," he muttered, already tucking into one of the tarts, "Where else am I gonna eat?"

Roy looked bemused but kept his composure as he delicately and carefully pulled out his doughnut. Ed knew he was being watched but pretended otherwise, taking a huge bite out of his tart (nipping his fingers as he did so with a muffled yelp) and enjoying it so thoroughly that he didn't bother to wipe at the custard smeared at the corners of his lips or the crumbs tumbling down his shirt. It was a sight Roy had seen many times before and Edward didn't give a fuck if he saw it once more... Except then Roy began to lift his own breakfast snack to his lips and Edward realised that he hadn't thought this "eat together" thing through. At all.

He had been too cocky with his "I don't find Bastard attractive or lovable at all" shit, had overestimated himself and his willpower, because the sight of Roy's eyes shutting as he bit down into the cream and jam doughnut and gave a moan so sumptuous that it was almost _naughty_ made Edward drop his tart into his lap. His mouth watered, his fingers itched, and he felt like someone had just funnelled molten lava directly into his stomach.

It wasn't the sight of the doughnut that made him feel like this, either.

Roy was simply too pretty for words. Edward was gawking (he knew he was gawking) as Roy slowly chewed, the muscles in his jaw undulating as they clenched and unclenched, dark lashes fluttering against his cheeks. Edward's mouth parted to raggedly inhale the first of many calming breaths: he sat there as though he'd been electrocuted stiff until Roy finally swallowed his mouthful, sighing contentedly afterwards. (On seeing the way Roy's Adam's apple dipped as his food went down, Edward made a noise like a lobster being boiled to death and tensed up all over again).

That was when Roy's tongue came out to wet his lips and swipe up the remaining cream. His eyes opened, warm and narrow, as he said, "You do make so much _noise_ when you eat, don't you, Edward?"

"Uh-" Edward's cheeks were furiously pink as he scrabbled to look like he  _had_ been eating (the custard that stained his trousers said otherwise). "S-says you, you Bastard... with your fuckin' sex noises..."

One of Roy's eyebrows lifted in disbelief as he brought the doughnut back to his lips. He watched Edward's every move as he bit into it slowly, his free thumb catching the smudge of cream that fell onto his lower lip.

Edward fought very hard not to fidget under Roy's hot gaze. In fact, he was so determined to ignore the man that he retaliated by shoving the rest of his tart into his mouth, hastily chomping it down. What first served as a distraction quickly became pleasurable however, as the flavours tap-danced and tangoed along his taste-buds...

Edward was soon stretched out like a contented cat, head thrown back as he purred. "I always forget how good they are," he mumbled to the ceiling.

There was a moment of silence and then: "That good, hm? Then perhaps you would be so kind as to let me have a bite of your second one..."

"Huh? You want to have a bite of  _my_ tart..."

"Why yes, Edward," Roy's grin was comparable to a piranha's, "I would love to have a bite of your tart."

What was realistically a second seemed to pass much slower as it dawned on Edward what Roy was saying, and then it dawned on him how to prevent that from happening. Immediately afterwards, Edward dived forward and grabbed his tart, shoving it with such passion and strength into his mouth that it was crumbling over his fingers. Custard was catching in the strands of his hair that fell into his face, and he didn't even care, so consumed was he by making sure he devoured the entire thing. In the aftermath, his cheeks dusted with crumbs and his fingers a bit sticky, he did not regret it at all.

For once,  _he_ was the one looking smug as he turned to Roy. "Whoops," he said, "can't have any now, can you, Bastard?"

But Roy only smirked. "That's all right. I quite enjoyed the show."

Edward really didn't know what to make of _that_.

"Now, for the real reason you are here..." Roy sucked a slither of cream from his thumb and Edward's eyes went round. "Your assignment. It's quite simple: investigate the source of the graffiti that has overcome the south sector. There are a few leads, and for someone of calibre it should be-" his eyes flashed in good humour "-a piece of tart, as it were."

Edward harrumphed and snatched at the file Roy unveiled. "This is such an arbitrary task," he snarled. "Can't some clueless fucker act as your show dog instead?"

"Ordinarily, yes, but the graffiti is of an odd nature. Whoever the culprit is, they have drawn arrays, transmutation circles, alchemical symbols... You were recommended for this task. A practised alchemist like yourself should solve this much more quickly than any other, after all."

"I'm not an alchemist any more, Bastard," Edward reluctantly said.

Roy met Edward's eyes without hesitation. "And yet I value your skills above any other alchemist I have met." A pregnant pause. "Will you do it?"

"'Course I'll do it," Edward muttered, and a crafty smile peeked out of the corner of his mouth. "Will only take a couple hours, after all."

"That's what I like to hear," Roy said. He looked entirely too pleased.  "I'll see you tomorrow for your report."

Edward stood leisurely then, and he was almost at the door when Roy spoke once more.

"Thank you for the doughnut, Edward." He didn't look up as he spoke, scribbling notes into a bundle of paper. "I appreciate it. Almost as much as I appreciate the custard stains on your trousers. Didn't you ever learn that it's rude to stare?"

Edward decided then and there that he'd have to learn the secret to faster-than-light travel because he could not get out of that office quickly enough. Well, that, and perhaps he'd have to learn a few more malicious and vociferous swear words... The ones he knew currently did not seem to highlight well enough just what a Bastard the General was.

********

Alphonse was good to look at. Lovely to look at, actually. Edward did not ever tire of seeing his younger brother, alive and in the flesh, right in front of him. Smiling, laughing, breathing, talking, sleeping... Whatever he did, Ed enjoyed his company more than anyone's, and he was glad to sit down with his brother for lunch.

"How is work, Brother? Is General Mustang pushing you to your limits?"

Despite his fingers tightening marginally around his cup, Edward thought he upheld his calm demeanour very well. "S'fine. Got an easy case to do today but that's it..."

Alphonse was staring it him but Edward was staring into his coffee. He could feel those sceptical eyes boring through him - he would have been irritated about it, too, if he weren't so damn happy that Al had eyes in the first place. "And the General...?"

"How should I know how he is?" Edward muttered. "Bastard can take care of himself..."

"The General is well on his way to becoming the next Fuhrer, as you well know, Brother. He needs people like you looking out for him."

Edward shifted in his seat, cleared his throat, but did not evade the question. "He's fine, I think. Bought him a cream doughnut this morning to say sorry for being late..."

"And I'm sure eating with him was just a harmless bonus," Alphonse gently teased.

Immediately, Edward's ears reddened and his head snapped back so he could glare at Alphonse. "The fuck's  _that_ mean?!"

"Oh, nothing," bloody brothers and their bloody knowing smiles, "only that I'm sure you very much enjoyed sitting down and eating with the man you... admire."

"I  _don't_ admire him! He's a bastard: a smug, smarmy, know-it-all, arrogant bastard." Edward paused and then added with vehemence, "And he eats like he's having _sex_."

"Oh yes, that's an extremely normal thing to notice."

"He wasn't exactly being  _subtle_ about it. He knew I was looking, too, he told me!"

Alphonse stifled an astonished laugh. "You mean to tell me that he very obviously indulged in sex noises as he ate a cream doughnut and then called you out on staring? Brother," Al began hesitantly, "did it not occur to you that perhaps he did those things intentionally?"

"What? You think he did it..." Edward gulped. "He did it on purpose?"

"Yes, I think so. I've had dinner with the General and not once did it sound..." A light dusting of pink overcame Al. "...indecent."

Jaw clenched, eyesight wavering, Edward determinedly kept his gaze fixed on the table. "Why'd he do that? Why would he do that?"

"Brother, I hate to say it but you are about as discreet as I was in a suit of armour." He smiled softly and looked as though he wished to touch Ed's hand or shoulder or arm but did not. Human contact was not something Al had yet gotten to grips with. "He knows as well as I do what you feel for him, and that you deny to yourself that you feel it."

"If he fuckin' knows-" because Ed really couldn't deny his feelings to his brother: lying to yourself was one thing, lying to your family was another. "-If he fuckin' knows, why would he do all of _that?_ Is the bastard making fun of me? Is that what he's doing?"

"Oh, Brother, no! Of course he isn't!"

"Well then  _what?"_   Edward snarled. Unbelievably, he could feel his eyes growing hot and his cup was beginning to shake in his hand - what, was there an earthquake or something? - and he told himself he was just really goddamn angry, goddamn livid, goddamn _incensed_. He pushed back from the table, abandoned his drink, and didn't look at Al as he stood.

Alphonse, very aware that his brother was a complete idiot in any emotional capacity and didn't understand other people's emotional motives, also shot to his feet. "Wait, Brother, no- let me  _explain_ -"

"Nothin' to explain," said Ed. "General's always been a bastard, and I shouldn't've expected any different... Nothing to be upset 'bout anyway, 'cause I don't even love him, I just think he's hot... and that's normal to think..."

Ed risked a glance up at Al and regretted it immediately: Al's eyes had gone wide and bright, and then softened all at once. "Brother," he said gently, "you love the General?"

"I  _don't_ ," snapped Ed. "I fuckin' don't! He's a fuckin' bastard, with his stupid fuckin' eyes and his sexy smirk and dark voice and his idiotic bravery and intelligence and his goddamn fuckin' perfection! Fuckin' bastard... How could he do this to me? Do this to me, then make fun of me..."

Alphonse had taken a step forward, looking alarmed. "Brother-"

But by then Edward had already turned tail and ran.

********

If there was one thing Edward knew, it was alchemy. He lived and breathed alchemy, knew its every line and curve like the back of his hand. Which was why, upon reaching the building where the graffiti was most apparent (it took him a lot of aimless wandering around the neighbourhood to find it), he was stumped when he did not recognise even one of the arrays.

"All right," he muttered to himself, pushing his sleeves up to his elbows, "a challenge, at last..."

And a challenge it proved to be. While it wasn't as difficult to work out as Edward had first thought, the arrays did work in a certain way that Ed was not familiar with: they were somewhere between alchemical and alkahestrical, which meant that, due to Ed's somewhat limited knowledge of alkahestry, it took him longer to work out than he would have liked. Once he was in the swing of things, however, he could easily see that each array was drawn in such a way that it was designed to manipulate each of the elements individually. There were four types of circles: one type for air, one for water, one for earth and one for fire.

These four circles were repeated again and again, overlapping each other and interweaving, all over the floor. When Edward stood against the wall and beheld them all, he saw that, together, they created a much larger transmutation circle that would manipulate all four elements simultaneously, the result of which would be an extremely destructive, extremely fatal collision.

It was around about then that Ed grouped everything together, and his forehead hit the wall with a  _thwack!_  "For shit's sake..." he muttered, and then, louder: "So, how long ago did you lock the door?"

There was a peal of laughter from behind him, up high, and he did not bother to look. "Oh, about ten minutes ago when you first walked in. I must say," there was not one familiar note to her voice, "I am extremely impressed by how quickly you have worked it all out."

"Well, duh." He turned around to face her but saw only her dark silhouette on what remained of the broken roof. "Using an array that you have invented yourself, that is unfamiliar to any alchemist alive, will mean that no-one will recognise the cause of death. Alchemy might be primarily considered, but there's enough doubt that they'll look for other leads as well."

Ed remembered the report that Mustang had shown him just last night about the people who had died at the hands of the serial killer. He remembered reading that bits of their bodies showed up all over the city, with no discernible source, and understood it now.

"The impact of the elements hitting each other will be pressurised enough to kill your victim," Ed explained aloud, because it helped him to think. "The wind will carry their body parts so that your location is not discovered while the water will wash away the evidence in case you are; the fire will burn your victims to ensure that they die (with the bonus of creating yet another cause of death theory for the police to sweat over), and the earth is used perhaps to protect yourself from impact, or to throw prospective investigators even further off-course by providing unexplained bruises to whatever is left of the bodies."

"How very rational," the woman said with slight disdain. "And here I had heard that you were an overrated midget with an anger problem."

Edward had grown taller -  _lots_ taller, in fact, he was about as tall as Roy - and so was unperturbed. "Overrated?" Edward snorted. "Did that analysis I just whipped up sound like I'd been fuckin' overestimated?"

"Oh, yes, indeed it did," said the woman. "You have acted exactly as I had thought you would."

"Whatever. Can you come down, now, so that I can arrest you in peace?"

"Arrest me?" The woman tittered a laugh. "How uncanny of you to say. No, of course not. I sense that you still have a question to ask."

And Edward shrugged, hands stuffed in his pockets. "All right," he said, "Why are you killing off Roy's ex-lovers?"

It took a lot of effort to say every single one of those words, and he knew that she knew it. "Ooo, he's  _Roy_ now, is he? Love certainly does addle your brain..."

"Seems to have addled yours. You're fuckin' crazy, killing all these people just 'cause you're jealous."

" _Jealous?"_ the woman reiterated, and then she was laughing. "Oh, how ludicrous! Me,  _jealous_? Unfathomable. I didn't do this because I was jealous, Fullmetal-" _  
_

"That's not my fuckin'  _name_ -"

"-I did this because I want dear General Mustang to suffer, to feel regret the likes of which he has never known. I want him to hurt so badly that he loses control, and is consequently discredited through the newspapers for an entire year afterwards. I want all of his hard work to be burned into ashes around him, to be destroyed by his own flame..."

It hit Edward like a brick. And then he felt like a moron for not realising sooner. "You don't want him to become Fuhrer," he said.

"Of course I don't! The man's an idiot, an idealist. Amestris needs a firm hand, not a delusional one. And so I wanted to make him mad, to faze him, to scare him... but I have killed six of his ex-lovers so far, and not one of their deaths has even come close to bothering him. And that's when I realised - oh, how ridiculous I felt for not realising it sooner - that it wasn't his past lovers I needed to target at all." Her laugh was deep and dark and full, and not nice like Roy's... No-one's was nice like Roy's... "I need to focus on his  _current one._ And so here you are. Just as I planned."

For a second, the statement went straight over Edwards head, until it circled back around and pummelled him into understanding. "What? You mean _me_? You're fuckin' crazy, there isn't anything going on with me and the General-"

"Oh please. You love him, he loves you... It is sickeningly sweet to watch, and even more sickening to see that you are completely clueless... But no matter. This will break him. You death will break him at last. I can feel it."

"Why not just kill him and save yourself all this effort?" Although Edward's stomach roiled simply upon consideration of Roy's death, he had to ask.

"Don't think it hadn't crossed my mind. In the end, however," she leaned forward at last, her face thrown into stark relief by the rays of light that illuminated the rest of the building, and her smile was as black as the shadows she swam in, "I simply decided that doing things this way is _much_ more satisfying. Of course, killing Mustang would have martyred him, so this way is much more sensible indeed."

"So not only are you thick as shit, talking to me like this as if we're buddies, but you're also a fuckin' sicko. That's just great. I always meet the best people."

The woman simpered. "Aren't the best people always a little twisted in the head? After all, if there wasn't something warped inside your mind, you would not have tried to bring your dead mother back to life..."

Edward's heart stuttered and then shot off, its possessed rhythm a drum of  _bitch, bitch, bitch_ that he let ignite his veins, let control his temper. "How the  _fuck_  do you know about that?!" he said.

"That is inconsequential, as is everything about your life. You do not matter. Only your death matters." And then she had manipulated the air around her, letting it carry herself gently to the ground in front of Edward, and he saw that she wore gloves much like Roy's - except hers must have been attuned to the wind. "You may yet be martyred... but the risk is so slight that it is worth a shot. What ethics, what motions, have you ever publicly stood up for in your life, after all?"

"You're a fuckin' idiot," Edward snarled.

And yet the woman only tipped her head. "Well," she said, "what will your opinion matter once you're dead?"

Her hand rose so suddenly that any normal man may have been caught off guard but Edward was already posed to move.  Propelling himself off the wall, he flung himself at her before she could act, forgetting too late that his arm was no longer transmutable and reaching instead the sword he carried these days to make up for it - except it wasn't there.  _Shit shit shit_ , he thought: he had forgotten his goddamn sword because he had 'fought' with Al and freaked out and _not thought_ , and now he was all but defenceless, having to resort to fists. He kicked out in quick succession -  _one two three four_ \- but she batted her hands like she was swatting at flies and consequently the wind whipped at Edward's feet, knocking each kick off-target. Like lead he dropped to the floor, then skidded and stuttered as she twirled her wrist and the wind shoved Edward away from her so forcefully that he tripped and landed on his back.

He looked up at her, somewhat in awe: she not exactly beautiful but powerful in her confidence.

"Wind is an underestimated element, don't you think?" she mused. "And now..."

Both of her hands rose like one great wave and Edward, thinking fast, pulled himself into a crouch and dove at her legs. Together they fell and scrabbled around on the ground: Edward struck out and tried to pin down her arms but she clicked her fingers, and he was forced to grapple on to her as the wind swarmed him and tried to ram him out of the way. Tumbling, lost in the current of the strengthening wind with each other, Edward managed to grab one of the woman's wrists and pulled the glove off - but then the wind gave one especially hard shove at the woman's demand and Edward, with his weakened grip, was flung away and slammed into the wall.

Stars spotted his vision and he blinked, the glove limp in his hand.

"The Fullmetal Alchemist - now without both metal and alchemy. Ironic, don't you think?" She had risen to her feet. The wind was circling around her as she curled her fingers and stroked them through the air like she was weaving a great blanket to throw over him. "I wonder if that is the reason Mustang loves you... because you are so defenceless now. Perhaps he feels the need to protect you."

"I don'... need pr'tecting..."

The woman laughed and it was unholy. "You may not be a boy any more, Edward Elric, but neither are you as capable as you once were. A genius, indeed, and a skilled swordsman - but you cannot think your way out of this one _and_ you are without your sword. You are defenceless."

"Fuck you," Edward spat. He sat up, head spinning, only to be beaten back down with a gust of wind. For a whole five seconds, he lost his sight and his breath.

"Oh dear." The woman tittered. "I think you are bleeding. Best get this done with now, shall I?"

And then she threw the wind that she had been sewing right at Edward: with a flick of her thumb, his rag doll body was wrapped up then rolled out onto the transmutation circle. Every time he tried to stand, to kick or punch or even _move_ towards her, she would force him back down to the ground, where his lips would be tinged with dirt and blood. He could barely breathe, so constant was the pressure of the wind, but then all of a sudden it stopped.

With a great wheeze, Edward gasped for breath and coughed out the dust and gravel. He looked up at her through bleary eyes and watched with a disjointed sense of dread as she activated the circle. The painted lines shone like magnesium under heat, and the woman was watching, laughing, mocking...

Without the wind there to hinder him, Edward stumbled up and barrelled forward as quickly as he could, escaping the circle just in time for it to explode into hell.

There was an enraged scream as Edward landed on the woman, followed by with the howling of wind, the clashing of fire, the roaring of water and the crumbling of earth. Edward saw colours like never before, smelled his blood, tasted his horror - all in the five seconds before he felt the woman throw him off, felt his body toppling towards the circle, felt his arm breaking against the battle of the elements...

And then, at last, he felt nothing at all.

********

It was a surprise to wake up what seemed like only a moment later and realise he was no longer in the darkened building. By contrast, this room was extremely light - not so light that Edward thought it was the hospital (not enough white, he thought) but light enough that he did wince upon opening his eyes. He swallowed nothing and it _hurt_ , and when he tried to move his whole body spiked with such pain that he gasped raggedly, eyes suddenly stinging.

"Edward," said a soft, thrilled voice to his right. He tried to look at them and winced, and then they said, "No, no, no, don't move..."

He wanted to contest that but found that his pride was probably not worth the pain. Instead, he settled back down and let all his muscles mould into the bed. "What's goin-" he coughed, tried again to speak, and only ended up coughing once more.

By his side, the person quickly lifted a glass of water to his mouth which he drank through small and eager sips. "Even half-dead you will eat and drink like a starving man, won't you?"

Edward cleared his throat as the glass was taken away, and realised that it was- " _Roy_ _?"_ he asked, unable to mask his surprise. "I thought you were..."

"Alphonse had to go to work today." From his peripheral, Edward saw Roy sit up straighter. "We've been... alternating. Today was my turn to look after you."

Edward grunted. "Sorry," he muttered.

But Roy only hummed, and then he was leaning forward and his fingers were carding through Edward's hair and, because his body was feeling much like a battleground, the sensation was _especially_ nice. Edward sighed and resisted the urge to scoot closer.

"Bastard... bet you did this to me..."

Roy laughed but it was weak. "You know I live to torment you."

"Didn't think you'd go this fuckin' far..." Edward turned his head to look at Roy, and his next clever remark was cut short as he caught sight of the purpled skin under the General's eyes, the pallor to his cheeks. "Shit, you probably look worse than me-" did he sound as concerned as he felt? "-have you even been sleeping?"

"Sleep is for the weak," said Roy.

"Sleep is for the living," Edward replied. "You're a fuckin' idiot."

"Well, for a while I wasn't sure if you... were ever going to sleep again. And so I didn't want to, either."

Edward laughed then winced when it rattled his ribs like maracas. "That's the most diplomatic way of tellin' me I almost died _ever._ "

It was meant to be a jest, it was meant to make Roy smirk and say something in his usual Bastard way but it did not. Instead, Roy bowed his head, the hand that was not in Edward's hair reaching out and grasping Edward's hand. "You almost died..."

"R-Roy?"

Roy looked up. Roy looked up and his eyes were shining and wet and he looked so distraught that Edward's heart gave an almighty throb. "Edward... You almost _died..._ "

It was suddenly a lot harder to breathe, and Edward did not care about his pride any more as he squeezed Roy's hand. "What happened?" he asked.

"A passerby heard some commotion that they thought sounded like a fight and reported it." His voice grew steadier: it was the voice of the unshakeable General Mustang, but the expression - the worry - was all Roy. Edward did not even remember seeing him like this when Maes died. "The police went to investigate and arrived to see you escape the transmutation circle and fight with the woman, Rebecca. You were thrown into the circle by her and - and it caused massive damage for the few seconds you were in there."

"But it couldn't have been that bad. It was only my arm that hit the circle, and the collision of the elements had already happened! By that time it was more like a contained storm."

"It was only your arm. The circle- ripped it straight off. You almost bled to death."

"What do you fuckin'  _mean_ , Roy?" But of course Edward knew what he meant. He was suddenly aware of it, could suddenly feel it, like he could all those years ago when he was just a boy: the dull ache to his arm, the cool steel meeting his shoulder, the throbbing of newly connected nerves... "My arm..."

Roy's hand was holding his so tightly now, as if to make up for Edward's unfeeling left arm. "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry..."

Automail. His left arm - it was made of automail. "After all I went through to get my right arm back and now my _left_ has been taken from me..." He laughed but it was not happy. "That's - that's..." A swallow, a deep breath, and an even deeper exhale as his entire body lost its tension. "Okay. That's okay."

"It's... okay?"

"Fuck, Roy, you said it yourself: I could have died. This is nothing compared to that, especially 'cause I've had automail before. It's not too bad, all things considered. And at least now my arm will match my leg."

And it was true. There was a lot to be thankful for, Edward thought, like doughnuts and Alphonse and Bastard trying to change the world. For all the good things, there had to be bad things, else Edward probably wouldn't be able to see that Bastard was a bastard but a very smart, very good one indeed. Sure, he'd lost the ability to feel the grass or the warmth of skin in one of his arms, but he could just do all that stuff with the other one, and it would forever serve as a reminder of how very close he came to dying and why he should be thankful of life. A metal arm was nothing all that bad, really. He got off lightly. Plus, kids seemed to think automail was cool _and_ he'd be able to piss Winry off by pulling a few nuts and bolts loose.

He was a very lucky man indeed.

"Edward," Roy said, and it was different this time, breathier, and Edward looked over at Roy and saw - well, he didn't know what he saw. Roy's expression was as hard to read as ever but his eyes were still soft and large and rather wet, and the way he actually  _smiled_ at Edward then was... was...

"Holy shit," said Edward. "Holy shit holy shit holy  _fucking_ shit."

"What is it?" Roy did not actually move although it seemed like it, what with the way he quickly looked Edward over, his body prepared to act in case something was wrong. "Are you in pain? When I arrived at the warehouse you didn't look like you were in a good way but you look better now. Is it the automail?"

"No, it's - wait, you went to the warehouse?"

Roy relaxed but did not let down his guard. "Yes, once I'd heard about the incident. I arrived in time to see your body..." He cleared his throat but it did not disguise the hoarseness in his voice when he said, "I thought you were dead. I wanted to beat the shit out of you. Do you know how much paperwork I have to fill out when someone under my command dies?"

Edward scowled. "Bastard," he muttered.

"And of course," Roy consoled, his thumb stroking circles across Edward's palm, "I was very worried. Now, what is wrong?"

Edward looked away. His cheeks were quickly turning pink. "It's just that you..." He was a bit lost for words. "You... and _me_..."

 _It's just that you are completely in love with me,_ was what Edward was thinking, and even thinking it felt too strong, too much, for reasons Edward didn't quite know. He wondered how he hadn't seen it before. Well, he supposed it didn't matter, for Edward could see it as clear as day now: Roy _did_ love him, just like Al had been trying to say. It was obvious, so mind-numbingly, holy-shit-he-loves-me  _obvious_ , from the way he looked at Edward to the things he said... Everything was suddenly slotting together.

_"-consider it a personal favour to me..."_

_"I don't want anything to happen to you, Edward."_

_"I don't think I will ever become accustomed to the way in which your mind works..."_

_"I value your skills above any other alchemist I have met."_

_"You know I live to torment you."_

And wasn't that the truth? Roy did torment Edward: in the morning, in the afternoon, in the evening, in dreams and in reality Roy was _constantly tormenting Edward._ Tormenting him with smirks and laughs, tormenting Edward by eating doughnuts as if they were goddamn  _dicks_ , and by making Edward feel- making Edward want-

"You  _bastard_ ," he said suddenly, his cheeks still pink as he stared wide-eyed at Roy. "What have you done to me?"

Roy laughed, the kind of laugh that made Edward's stomach swoop in ways he didn't want to think of before. "Edward..."

"No, you fuckin'  _bastard_ , you have a lot to answer for: making me feel like  _this_ , making my body perform all these stupid,  _useless_  physiological tricks! What's with  _this_?" He put a hand on his heart, "And  _this?"_ He moved his hand to rest on his stomach. "I want to - you're a goddamn _smug fuckin' bastard!_ "

"Edward," Roy said, and his smirk was even more smug than usual, "I'm not going to apologise for you falling in love with me."

"You piece of- I didn't  _say_ -"

"Most of what you say is subliminal, I've learned," said Roy, "and I had to work very hard to learn that. If you want to understand the person you love, you have to work at it, after all."

That was the first time he'd actually sort of said it - " _the person you love"_ \- and it made Edward's heart hammer so hard in his wrists and chest and ears that all his irritation was blasted from him. "You are... you are..."

And Roy was leaning in close, very very very close, his hand still tangled in Edward's hair and his other rising to run lines down Edward's cheek and jaw. "It was too much to presume that you knew that I was in love with you, wasn't it?" Roy gave a chuckle and as he did so, pulled gently on Edward's hair to angle his head. "Well, I'll just tell you plainly now, seeming as you're too thick to understand _my_ subliminal messages properly: I am so very much in love with you, Edward, and I am very much aware that you are in love with me too."

Edward weakly said, "Bastard," but even so, he was the one that leant in, that pushed his lips onto Roy's, that closed his eyes and sighed as Roy's fingers pressed to his jaw. He was the one whose body shook, whose nerves waltzed without an aim, whose blood became impossibly still. He was the one who started the kiss, who felt all of these things so completely that it was as if there was no world outside of his skin, but that didn't mean that Roy did not feel the same.

Edward thought that Roy's lips were so soft for a war-hardened General, his touch so careful for a flame-wielding alchemist. His love tasted like jam and cream, and Edward could not help but laugh into the kiss and then Roy was laughing too until he was suddenly pressing closer and there was nothing funny about that. His kiss was deep, captivating, numbing the pain of Edward's injuries. He smelled like laundry detergent and fresh air by the sea and life after a near-death experience and his touch was hot like coals.

It was hard to know when Edward had started saying it but Roy had pulled back and was smirking as Edward _just kept_   _saying_ _it_ , over and over, just: "I love you, you bastard, oh dear fuckin'  _god_ I love you..."

He said it until it stung, and when it did, Roy gave him another kiss to melt the pain away.

"You really are an odd one, aren't you?" was what Roy said afterwards. "I have to kiss you nonsensical in order for you to admit that you love me..."

Edward scowled, his ears flushing. "Shut up and get me some fuckin' food, Bastard. And call Al. I need to apologise."

"Noodle soup okay?" asked the General, standing, and Edward realised that he was still in uniform.

"S'fine," he muttered.

"I love you," said the General.

"You're a bastard," said Edward. And he really meant it.

**Author's Note:**

> The is the first in a series called 'Could Have' which depicts all the ways that Roy and Ed could have gotten together. These two idiots are fun to write about. I hope you enjoyed it! I'm not certain whether I'm happy with this but I spent so long fretting over it that I just had to take the plunge sooner or later.  
> (I realised about a week after posting that I have been spelling Alphonse as 'Alfonse' for pretty much ever, which is because I have a friend who spells it that way... Ah. Sorry. That must have been mildly irritating to read. Gotta kick the habit, I suppose!)


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